The Loveless Child
by RapunzelInTheSnow
Summary: Lyra married in her own world, but still loves Will, causing everyone to look down on her son, Roger, who's going to have his own adventure. Rated T for Roger's indifference and Lyra's hot headedness, please give this story a chance.
1. Chapter 1

It is very hard to know that your mother doesn't love your father, mused the teenager, but it might be worse if he were a girl. He wasn't therefore he didn't exactly care about his parents, and was content knowing that he was a self-centred and horrible human being with little regard for his personal safety.

His father was a stuffy man, but he did allow Roger to play with the Gyptian kids. Praskovia liked to run about in the streets with them, so it was slightly better for her too. His mother was hot headed and argumentative, and in love with another man who apparently lived in another world. Once a year she would go and sit on a bench at Oxford, irking his father, who, Roger supposed, must love her somewhat enough to be jealous of this man.

He sighed while he thought about this and Praskovia changed into a mouse and scuttled up his arm, frowning.

"Are you still thinking about what he said?" she asked in a worried manner, while Roger simply nodded. He'd tried to reason with his father about the bench business – where his mother was now – and his father had called him a loveless child. It didn't bother him, but it did provoke deep thought, which meant that sometimes Roger would gaze off into space for hours at a time. His namesake, he pondered, was also loveless, having died as a child at his grandfather's hands. He stood up suddenly, picking Praskovia up in his hands and biting his lip.

"I need to talk to Mother," he said, and walked towards the front door. He tugged his cap and jacket off of the hook by the door that held such items and put them on respectively, slipping Praskovia into the pocket of the jacket. She curled up and he started to walk jauntily out to the street, hurriedly shouting some form of farewell to his father.

He dodged in and out of the crowd, and Praskovia flew out of his jacket pocket, landing on his shoulder as a sparrow. "Keep going!" She chirped in his ear and a flicker of warmth hit his chest. He wasn't exactly a loveless child for he simply adored Praskovia, and would do anything for her. He was just thinking on this when a voice called his name joyfully.

"Roger!" He didn't recognize the voice until he saw its owner and his daemon, which was running towards Praskovia with a joyful bark in a husky form.

"Alek!" He held his hand out to the other boy and they shook, mockingly like gentleman. They laughed and Alek released his hand to ruffle the shorter boy's hair, chuckling when Roger swatted his hand away in a slightly annoyed manner.

"Where are you going?" he asked, curious. Roger coughed.

"Oxford…" At this Alek's expression grew sombre. He knew why Roger would be going to Oxford; everyone knew that the boy's parents had a marriage that was for the most part loveless, and the yearly ritual that was conducted by his mother. Some approved, others tolerated. When his friend was disturbed by the whole matter, Alek found himself falling into the last category with some force.

But he tried to smile at his friend, before he noticed Roger's downcast eyes. He cursed, knowing that the pause before his smile had pointed out his opinions about the whole business rather sharply. He had hoped to cover them up but Roger was unfortunately rather perceptive in things like this.

"Roger, I am sorry…" he muttered, and his daemon, Levakya, ran around Praskovia in apologetic circles. Roger gave a dry laugh.

"It's absolutely fine, Alek. Just something my mother does. Nothing to do with me, really…" He picked Praskovia up from the ground and gave a jolly wave. "See you soon?" He took off at quite a rate, heading towards Oxford without really looking at anyone.

Damn it. He knew how Alek felt about his parents, and what everyone thought of their marriage. It was the way they looked at him, wondering how a loveless marriage could produce a child, and then analysing him. It shook him to his soul and caused fear to prickle in his hands. They knew he was cold and self-centred, and blamed his upbringing and all of this happened in _just a few seconds._

He was too upset over this to see the huge person he was barrelling towards.

**So I only own Roger, Alek, this mystery man and respective demons. Hope you like!**


	2. Chapter 2

The man's name was Terrence Montfisco, and he was a Gyptian who had very unusually taken off on his own to travel. He had been forced by his mother, an old woman by the name of Ma Fisco, to come along with the rest of them to London. He was consequently rather out of sorts, and glared down at a tearful Roger who was lying now on the cobbles having bumped into the muscular man.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, sneering. "Do you even look where you're going, boy?"

Praskovia wriggled out of Roger's hands and into his collar, shrinking back from the Gyptian man's anger while Roger glared at the man.

"Why should I?" he asked the man, trying not to seem frightened or upset. The man's eyes softened, and he reached a hand down to help up the boy who got up of his own accord.

"Did I scare you? I didn't mean to, honest, it's just a bad day." He started suddenly, and his daemon, a falcon of some sort, wheeled up, staring down at Praskovia.

"You, you're like that Lyra! Any relation?" he asked, chuckling. Roger turned away.

"I'm her son. How do you know my mother?" he asked, distrustful and wary of this man who knew his mother's name and had a quick temper to boot. He backed away, and the man laughed again.

"Don't be scared, now. I used to battle your mother when I was a boy. She was feisty, you might say. Gave me a black eye once. I had to say that I walked into a door, but everyone knew what really happened." His face became friendly. "Her son? Well, do you want to meet my ma?" He offered a hand and Praskovia shivered in Roger's collar, unhappy. Roger considered it. He knew where most of the Gyptian boats were so it was probably perfectly safe. He shook the man's hand, walking beside him as they headed to the river where the barges were. He recognized several, before the man pointed to a sky blue barge.

"That one, that small one, is mine. Ma's is that green one." He shouted across to the latter.

"Ma! Someone you have to meet!"

Roger held his breath slightly. The Gyptian mothers always scared him, as they mostly had a swift slap for anyone who put on airs. He'd received a stinging ear from several of them for his indifference before, and he didn't know whether this one would be any different. The woman straightened up from sorting through what looked to be a basket of cloth and fixed piercing blue eyes on Roger.

"Looks like Lyra, right enough, my lad." She made her way across the barge's bridge to the land, and looked at him. He looked directly back.

"I'm her son, Roger." He carried on looking at the weathered face, guessing she was around her mid-fifties, and noticing that she had a couple of scars. Her daemon was a tiger that prowled after her, with glinting ebony stripes and coppery fur that caught the sunlight in an eye catching way, although Roger only looked at her daemon for a few minutes. She looked at him again and stretched a hand out to catch his cheek.

"Her son… I wonder who she married. One of the professors?" He nodded and Praskovia scuttled out from his collar, becoming a butterfly and settling on Roger's cap. Ma Fisco chuckled at this display of protectiveness, and walked back up to the barge.

"I think it's safe to think that you'll be staying for something to eat?" asked Terrence. "My name's Terrence, by the way." He grinned in a friendly way at the boy who nodded, as a pair of children ran over from the barge.

"Terrence! You never said that you were bringing Roger back!" cried the boy, hugging Roger's middle happily. Roger looked up at the man.

"They're your siblings?" The girl's daemon changed from a kitten to a bird and flew to hover by Roger's cap, while Terrence nodded, laughing. Praskovia changed into a sparrow and started to play some sort of game with the other daemon, as the boy released his hold on Roger's waist.

"I guess I could stay and have a meal," Roger said. He knew the children, Cathy and Theo, so he thought it would be safe enough. Besides, a delicious smell was wafting out of the barge which he presumed was the woman's cooking. Theo tugged him towards the barge's bridge and helped him while Terrence and Cathy followed behind. A small table had been set out on the open air bit with enough chairs for seven people, and Roger couldn't help but wonder who the other two might be.

**Thoughts? It would be lovely if this was reviewed… But if anyone wants to flame, Lyra will be on the case. The professor is NOT the one mentioned in Lyra's Oxford, but just a random professor. Any suggestions for his name would be welcome.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own His Dark Materials.**

**Please review!**

Ma Fisco brought out a sort of ginger and potato soup, ladling out bowls for everyone. Out of the corner of his eye, Roger saw two men hurrying towards them, presumably drawn by the spicy smell of the gingery concoction. One was around Ma Fisco's age and the other looked to be older than Roger but younger than Terrence. The boat woman turned around to glare at them.

"Ben Fisco, you're late for your supper. And as for you, our Bill, you'll feel the back of my hand if you are late to this table again." She waved the ladle threateningly and the two younger children giggled at the sight of Bill Fisco's red ears. His father simply laughed and kissed his wife's cheek before turning to Roger.

"And what's your name, my lad? For I've never seen you at this table before." His eyes twinkled at Roger who felt a little more at ease than he had previously.

"Roger. I'm Lyra Silvertongue's son." He bowed his head slightly to the Gyptian man, and Praskovia scuttled on to the table. She was in the form of a ferret, and Ben Fisco nodded.

"I see. So are you going to chatter or eat your supper?" he asked. Roger didn't reply, already eating the warming gingery soup. It was delicious, although obviously meant as something to be had after a day's work, which was something Roger wasn't much accustomed to. He eagerly ate more and more of his helping while Ma Fisco chuckled.

"That's what I like to see. A lad eating properly." She grinned at Cathy and Theo who were eating in the same manner as Roger.

"So, Roger, have you heard?" Theo whispered in what he thought was a secretive manner. Roger tipped his head to one side, obviously clueless as to whatever it was. Theo pointed surreptitiously to Terrence.

"Terry's going to help lead an expedition to another country, with some of the professors." Theo's eyes shone with excitement. "They're going to go and find this witch clan that no one really knows about, and do a report."

Roger realised he _had_ heard of it. "My father is on that expedition, actually. I forgot… He wants me to go along too, but my mother won't. She says she's too involved with other witch clans." He frowned. "I don't really want to go, but it would help my application to the Glastonbury College. They study plants there and the witch clan would know all about plants."

Cathy made a scary face. "I hear that witches eat kids' demons. Just eat them clean up." Roger felt a chill of horror at this and grasped Praskovia, before the reassuring laughter of Terrence Montfisco filled the air.

"Nonsense. Witches aren't monsters at all." He clapped a hand on Roger's shoulder. "And you should know that most of Cathy's tales are just plain fantasy."

Cathy stuck her tongue out. "No, Peter Costa told me that's what witches do. He said that they keep you alive afterwards, too."

Praskovia mewled in fear and scuttled up Roger's sleeve to wrap herself around his neck. Ma Fisco arched an eyebrow.

"Peter Costa tells more stories than you do, Cathy, and the pair of you are little devils, both of you worse than the other." She smiled at Roger, who nodded back at her. It might have scared him, but at least the story was no truer than that of the lady in the mirror. He petted Praskovia and grinned as Cathy began to sulk. A hand clapped on his shoulders, and he turned to face Terrence.

"If you are coming with me on this trip, what will you do?" asked the friendly man, and Roger considered telling him before deciding it was best kept a secret.

"Helping my father research the origin of this new clan." Terrence raised an eyebrow but said no more, turning back to his soup. Bill leant over to Roger.

"I'll be coming too, so you won't be stuck with Terry for the whole trip. I'm there to protect the professors along with a couple of other lads. Everyone is restless at the moment due to this trip; we think the professors are taking too long preparing for this. We could be off within a couple of days but they just want to do their paperwork." He grinned conspiringly at Roger, who smiled back, although his pride as a college child was a little bruised. The professors were admittedly taking a long time to prepare for this trip, but they would be ready for every eventuality if they did as they would.

Bill seemed an alright person, though. He was closer to Roger in age than Terrence certainly; he might be a good companion to have on his side during the trip. Roger concentrated on finishing his soup.

**Thoughts? Reviews?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hope you like this next chapter!**

His father was waiting for him when he got home, with a temper that had put up with two disappearances and was subsequently not very happy.

"Just where have you been?" he asked archly, his lynx daemon glaring at them both. Roger held Praskovia in sparrow form close to him and glared back at the daemon.

"Out." He felt his daemon shiver with fear but stood as still as he was able.

He hadn't been able to bring himself to fetch his mother from the bench, deciding instead to leave them there, her and Pan. Praskovia had led him home and she quivered against his chest just over his heart.

The lynx, Loretta, growled a little but let them pass as they headed up to Roger's room.

Model boats hung from the ceiling and books on plants were stacked neatly on a shelf to the left side of the room. The bed was neatly made and the wardrobe had ironed and neat clothes hanging there, while storybooks were lined up like meek soldiers on another shelf. A little clock, painted gaudy red and green, ticked away the time on the desk where a couple of notebooks had been left beside a fountain pen. Praskovia flew up to flutter around the boats, the red one being rather like the Fisco boat. An anbar lantern cast a little glow on the desk as Roger turned it on. He opened his journal and began to write.

_Today, I met the person who will be helping Father and the other professors on this trip. His family are very nice. Mother stayed at the bench for a long while today._

He shut the book and tied it up with a white ribbon, before a knock sounded at the door. He walked over and Praskovia turned herself into a moth to flutter onto his shoulder. He opened the door, and his father stood there.

"Just to let you know, the date for the expedition has been set. We leave in a week's time aboard a Gyptian ship." His father nodded after this and turned on his heel to walk down the stairs.

Roger nodded after him, feeling strongly that this gesture was an act of defiance. Praskovia fluttered off of his shoulder and landed on the window sill.

"A week! One week from now we'll be off to the clans." Her voice was excited and Roger smiled. She was so happy, and he thought he might be too. This was one step closer to his goal, to his career, and to people who loved plants like he did.

Praskovia changed into a kitten, leaping to the ground. "The witches will listen to you, I bet. Even if your father doesn't, they will know what you are talking about." She stared up at him with big green eyes before he picked her up.

"I know. And Bill and Terrence will be on the voyage, so I'll have a few people to talk to, like you will."

Praskovia shuddered. "That falcon scares me, though. She's always looking around at things, like she's trapped, even when there's wide open space above her head."

Roger blinked at this revelation. Maybe Terrence really hated the city inwardly? He had wondered why Praskovia had been scared. He hadn't looked much at the man's daemon, as Praskovia usually told him about the daemons of the people who they met. This was interesting to ponder about.

Praskovia flew up to swoop down onto the desk as a huge yellow butterfly. "I like Ma Fisco's tiger though. It made me feel safer when that falcon was being restless. It winked at me."

Roger laughed. "Looks like you've made a friend there. And we know the kids, so that ought to be okay."

A door banged downstairs and they both fell silent, both listening to what would be said.

"Lyra, I don't need to ask where you've been." His father's voice, cold and bitter.

A cold laugh echoed up the stairs. "So don't! Where is Roger?" He wished his mother wouldn't provoke his father.

"In his room. I wouldn't go in there if I were you, he went out looking for you earlier."

Praskovia gulped. "He knew all along!" she whispered to Roger, who shushed her and listened again.

"…see my son if I please, I en't going to heed you." His mother started to walk up the stairs and Roger sat down at the desk, staring at the anbar lantern with a sort of focus. Praskovia fluttered around his head, a sparrow again.

The door opened and Lyra stepped in.

"Roger?"

He half turned and then went back to staring at the anbar lantern. Pantalaimon was perched on her shoulder, and her blue eyes were watching her son. Praskovia turned into a ferret and scampered up to Roger's shoulder to mimic Pan.

"I'm home!" she said, bright and happily. He nodded and she stared at him for a little while longer then swept out of the room, her hair fluttering in the draft like dark blonde ribbons.

Roger sighed slightly, and let his hand rest on Praskovia for a minute.

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	5. Chapter 5

Lyra sighed as she sat down at the desk in her study, recalling Roger's behaviour. She'd heard his tutors call it indifference but it struck her more as shutting out the world because he didn't want to be seen to care. If she were to tell the truth, it worried her. Her friend Roger had never done that, although Will's insistence on being part of the background did bear some resemblance to the attitude her son had developed on life.

How did he cope with the situation? His father had become angrier lately and Roger didn't seem to care, but Lyra suspected he might. Pantalaimon curled up and then looked at her.

"You know there isn't anything to be done about it, Lyra. He'll settle in his own time."

She sighed again.

/

Praskovia skipped ahead as a puppy, looking back with excitement at Roger. He felt happier since the incident with his mother had been yesterday and today was new, full of promise and beautiful happenings, gorgeous possibilities. Although he was still rattled about being called loveless, he was happy to run towards the river in search of his friends.

He saw Cathy run towards him with her daemon flying overhead as a nightingale.

"Roger! You're really leaving in a week?" she wailed, and he hugged her with a chuckle.

"Of course! Praskovia and I are looking forward to it. En't you, Cathy?" He knew she would miss him and teased her because of it – but only in jest, as he would miss her and her brother while he was travelling with his father. She puckered her little face into a frown and he ruffled her hair to let her know he was joking.

"No, I en't! An' you know I en't!" she whined, and hugged him. Praskovia and Cathy's daemon were running about each other with mock growling as the children talked.

"Ah well, you'll have good memories if the witches eat me." He checked her expression and she suddenly burst into giggles. A shout came from the barges and she jumped.

"I'd better go, that's Ma. Did you say good-bye to Alek?"

Roger felt his smile drop. No, he hadn't; and he knew perfectly well he hadn't. The awkwardness of yesterday made it quite impossible, didn't it? He watched as Cathy ran back to her irate mother, and saw Theo waving from the boat. Returning the gesture, he turned on his heel and started to walk slowly back to the hub of the city.

Alek was one of his best friends, but if he thought badly of Roger's parents, Roger did not know that he could be called a friend. Surely it was Roger who should matter to Alek? Certainly, it didn't seem that it should be his mother or father who was Alek's friend.

He saw Praskovia turn into a bird and fly up to his shoulder.

"Alek is your friend, en't he?" she asked in a whisper. Roger sniffed a little in the cold of the morning, and nodded. Praskovia fluffed her feathers and shuffled about before continuing.

"Well, he's not at fault for what other people say. His parents disapprove, and that's what made him look like that."

Roger felt a smile curve his lips. Alek was still his friend, his comrade, first mate to the pirate adventures. He was so lost in the happiness of the thought that he didn't see Alek approach him until the other boy was stood right in front of him.

"Roger?"

The other boy held out his hand and Roger shook it in that familiar gesture. Alek laughed, and cleared his throat.

"So, you leave in a week."

Roger nodded. "I look forward to travelling. My mind does need broadening, although Cathy has warned me against Praskovia being eaten by witches."

Alek snorted. "Cathy Fisco is a notorious fibber, and you know that!" He relaxed a little. It was suddenly clear that Roger had forgiven him and the fiasco of yesterday need not be mentioned. However, he would miss Roger when the younger boy went travelling; he was a good friend even if he was a little distant.

They fell into step, walking towards Banbury Road with a lighter air, and less of the tension that there had been.

…

Lyra was writing to an acquaintance of hers when she looked out of the window. Roger was walking outside with his friend – Alex, or Caleb? – and talking, laughing and smiling in a way he would never do inside the house. Or in her presence. It tugged at her heart rather painfully to see the boy he was with his friends and yet was not for her. As a young child he had adored her but that had passed ever so quickly, and Pan whimpered with sadness as they both remembered.

And he would be further away from her in a week's time physically as well as emotionally.

**So? Reviews? Favourite? Follow?**

**I'm pleased with how this is turning out, I really am. I own nothing apart from my own characters.**


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